The train pulled into Bellemont just as the sky deepened into dusk. The village, nestled between snow-covered hills, lay quiet beneath the soft glow of street lamps. A place untouched by urgency. A place removed from everything.

  Emilia stepped off the train, her coat wrapped tightly around her. The cold bit at her skin, but she barely noticed. She had been cold for a long time now.

  She clutched the handle of her suitcase, her grip tightening as she took in the stillness around her. Bellemont was a world away from the life she had known. No towering buildings, no ceaseless noise, no blurring of days into sleepless nights. Just crisp, undisturbed air and a quiet that made her uneasy.

  She inhaled deeply, her breath clouding in the frigid air. The train rumbled behind her, the sound oddly distant, as if reminding her that she could still turn back. But there was nowhere to turn back to.

  Her cottage sat at the edge of town, where the village met the woods. The house was small, stone-built, with a thatched roof dusted in snow. It looked untouched, as if no one had lived there in a long time. She fumbled with the key, her fingers stiff from the cold, and pushed the door open.

  Inside, the air was stale, but the house was intact. A fireplace, wooden floors, simple furnishings. It was nothing like the home she had left behind. *The home she had lost.*

  She set her suitcase down and took slow steps into the living room. Her breath hitched when she saw the rocking chair near the window. It was empty, but in her mind, she could almost see him there.

  Theo.

  She swallowed hard and turned away.

  Shaking off her coat, she wandered through the cottage, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She stopped at the small bookshelf in the corner, running her fingers along the spines of forgotten books. Then, carefully, she pulled out a folded letter from her coat pocket.

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  Another one she would never send.

  "Dear Theo,

  It’s snowing today. I wonder if you’re outside, making footprints before anyone else can. I hope you still love winter."

  Her hands trembled as she traced the words. She had written so many letters. Letters filled with things she couldn’t say out loud. Letters filled with love, regret, longing.

  She closed her eyes and pressed the letter between the pages of a book. She wouldn’t read it again.

  The fire took its time catching. She sat in front of it, knees pulled to her chest, watching the flames flicker against the stone.

  She didn’t cry.

  She had promised herself she wouldn’t.

  ---

  The next morning, she walked through Bellemont’s narrow streets, her breath visible in the crisp air. The village stirred in slow, unhurried movements—the scrape of shovels against stone steps, the distant murmur of voices behind frost-covered windows.

  It was nothing like the city.

  Here, no one rushed. No one looked hurried or burdened. People moved with purpose but without urgency. A world apart from the one she had left behind.

  She pulled her coat tighter around her as she passed a small bakery. The scent of fresh bread curled into the air, momentarily warming the cold morning. A few villagers stood outside, chatting as if the morning belonged to them.

  Then, she saw them.

  A woman kneeling in the snow, buttoning up the coat of a small boy. He couldn’t have been older than five—Theo’s age.

  Emilia’s footsteps faltered. The mother ran a gentle hand through the boy’s dark curls, smiling as he laughed, his mittened hands reaching for a handful of snow. It was such a simple moment, one she had lived so many times.

  Until she couldn’t.

  Her chest tightened, her fingers curling into the fabric of her coat. The laughter rang in her ears, and for a brief second, she imagined it was Theo. Imagined she could walk up to him, scoop him into her arms, feel his warmth against her.

  But it wasn’t him.

  It would never be him.

  She turned quickly, forcing herself to keep walking, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The ache in her chest refused to subside. It wrapped around her, constricted her, *reminded her.*

  Bellemont was supposed to be a place of escape. But some ghosts followed, no matter how far she ran.